


family first

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Forced underaged prostitution, M/M, Rape, no happy ending, parental incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Family is when you take care of each other. What does that mean exactly could be different to different people.Full summary/prompt link in the notes, please make sure not to click this fic if you didn't read the tags first.
Relationships: Catherine Todd & Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Others, Willis Todd/Jason Todd
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48
Collections: DC Kink Meme





	family first

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kinkmeme fill:  
> Willis pimps out his kid for cash and drugs. Catherine either pretends she doesn't know or knows and helps/doesn't care. And like any good salesman, he makes sure to test out his product to make sure it's up to snuff. Make it cruel and awful and hopeless.  
> https://dckinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/766.html?thread=103934

First time it happens is not like the others.

Mom is sick, like really really sick this time. She throws up, a lot. Her body is swelled. Feet, especially. She asks Jason to rub them, and he does. He would do anything to make it easier on her: bring her water, and sweets, make himself very quiet so not to disturb her when she finally rests. He can't do much more. He's four, he thinks. And yeah, all the kids think they're big enough even when they are barely higher than their father's knee. But Jason, even then, feels his own uselessness very keenly. He can't do anything to make it easier for her. He can't even make his father leave her alone. 

He tries. When mom is lying down on the couch, and Willis tries to join her, hug her from behind, Jason sees her face scrunching. She can't stand the touch, especially Willis' touch, right now. So Jason yanks on his arm, a picture book in his hand.

"Read for me, dad," he says.

Willis yanks his hand back and tells him to piss off. But Jason can't leave him here with his mom, so he asks again, and again, and again.

Willis gets up, and takes the book out of Jason's hand, and tears it apart, page by page.

Jason's probably scared. Maybe mad. Both. Next thing, he's sitting in his room, head under the pillow, and parents are screaming at each other in the living room. He hears parents' bedroom door open and shut. He hears the fridge and the clink of a bottle against the glass. Then, for a long time, nothing at all. He is safe, he thinks. He dozes off.

He doesn't hear the door opening. He feels the pressure on his bed. Someone is there, and at first, Jason thinks it's mom. But that's not right. She doesn't smell like cigarette butts or bootlegged vodka. So, it's his father, but that doesn't make sense either. Willis hated to touch him. 

When he did touch Jason, it was him gripping Jason's jaw, turning his head one way or another, or pushing him down to the floor. It wasn't that Willis liked to hurt him. It didn't even hurt, much, comparatively. But it was humiliating, and Jason absolutely would have chosen Willis breaking his nose with a punch, as Chris' father did, five years along the line.

But Willis didn't let Jason to take his hand when they were walking down the street. He would never hug him. And he was so very against Jason sleeping in his parents' bed, or times when mom slept in his.

Too old for this, he would say.

"Your mom is a bitch," Willis mumbles.

Jason turns his face down so he wouldn't be able to feel that heavy acidic smell that surrounded Willis on his tongue. He keeps his eyes shut. 

When Willis is in a mood to talk, he won't care if you're sleeping. He will go to your room in the middle of the night and turn on the lights and snatch your bed covers and will slap you on the face.

But Jason still in that age where he hopes that if he pretends nothing is happening, nothing will happen and he will be left alone.

"I love her," Willis says, regret in his voice, moist breath on the back of Jason's neck. 

"I never, ever cheated on her."

The heat and the weight on Jason's back are almost unbearable. Jason knows now why mom can't stand it.

"And I won't."

He tries to squirm away. But Willis hands are on Jason's chest.

"But I am a man, too. I am human." 

They are slow. And they are getting lower.

It's not painful, whatever Willis does. Jason doesn't have a word for it yet. It's nothing compared to what that bastard Alfa did to Dave, ten years from this night, for the initiation. Dave, they say, was screaming like a bitch.

Jason thinks he would rather be screaming too. Then, his mother would have woken up. Neighbors would have called the cops.

But it doesn't hurt, it's just unpleasant and weird, and Jason is afraid to move at all.

"It's her fault, you know," Willis whispers, after. "I would never, if she wasn't a bitch tonight."

Jason loves his mom. But god, does he hate her now.

Tomorrow, Jason's mom wakes up on blooded sheets. Willis takes her to a hospital. Jason is left alone. He is staring at his parents' bed, the stains are dark brown now. Did it happen because of Jason? Because he hated her so much?

There is a small vanity table in the room. A carved-wood box is on it. Everything his mom took when she left her parents' house is in there. Including long pink ribbons. They are silky to touch. And very, very strong. Jason wraps one of them around his neck. He pulls with all his might. 

It doesn't work, obviously. He can't recall why. Too much time passed. His brain did a smart thing and blacked it all out, even (especially) the night before.

He wouldn't have remembered it at all, he thinks.

Except it happens again.

  


Willis thinks he is useless. He sees Jason reading and, at best, he will tell him to put it down and go help his mother to make dinner, or clean their apartment, or do the laundry.

"All the schooling you're doing," Willis says. "Complete waste of time. Your mom went to college, and where is she now? Same place we are. I'm the only one who does something for this family. And here's the apartment looks like a pigsty. The fridge is empty. I don't even have clean socks for tomorrow. Do something for your family, for a change. Go clean the bathroom, she pucked there again. Take the clothes to the laundromat, she can't even stand, the useless junky. Go make dinner, your poor mother isn't feeling well, do you not have a heart?"

So on, so forth. It may differ in the choice of words and tonality, but the point is largely the same: Jason and his mom are freeloaders, sponging off Willis, who works hard and gets tired.

If Jason is reading anything but textbooks, it's even worse.

  


"I was selling cigarettes after school when I was your age," Willis says. "My dad was a deadbeat, so me and my brothers stepped up and helped my ma with anything we could. And you're just sitting here reading all day? You lazy piece of shit. You don't love anyone except yourself, do you?"

It's slightly better if Willis has his friends over.

"My kid is going places," he says. "He gets only straight As in school."

He catches Jason by his hand and ruffles his hair and makes him sit there and listen to their drunken drivel. 

His buddies usually indulge him. Except for Vernon, tonight.

They're drinking beer. Jason drinks tea. When Willis starts to brag about his son, Vernon hiccups and says:

"Smarts. Smarts aren't everything. My brother in law, he's smart, right? Got a degree and everything, Betty helped to put him through college, you know. She was working since fourteen, you know. 'cause her little brother was so smart and needed education. And now he's an accountant, and she's a grocery store clerk. She asked him for money, recently, just so we can make ends meet until her next paycheck. You know what he said? Sorry, he said. I don't have any cash because I bought a new car!"

"Ungrateful bastard," Willis nods.

"Should have made him work, too. They were only two years apart in age. Then he would know and appreciate her."

"Yeah," Willis is nodding, still, but then he gestures with his bottle. "Make him work, though? Who would even buy him?"

"I meant more like, ask her boyfriend to let him run drugs for him or something. But, actually, you're wrong. There's a lot of boys that do that stuff too."

"Not in this neighborhood. We don't have them fairies here."

"What's that got to do with anything? When needs must, a beetle is a meat too. Besides, there are boys so pretty, kind of like your boy here," he gestures at Jason, and Willis follows the movement with his eyes. "And a little mascara, a lipstick, a cute dress, you won't know something is wrong until it's too late and you owe the money to the pimp."

"Fuck you, man," Willis laughs.

His gaze, however, lingers.

Vernon leaves, eventually, and Jason tries to make himself scarce. 

Willis calls him into the kitchen, though, so Jason could help to clean up the mess.

  


And there's a lot of it. Sixteen beers will do that for you.

He can't keep his irritation off his face, and it's like a red tapestry to a bull.

"Hey," Willis still can fit Jason's face in his one hand. He uses that to turn him around.

"You think you're too good for honest work, is that it?"

Willis is leaning on the kitchen counter. Jason has to look up at him because keeping his eyes level would mean staring at his old man's crotch. 

"Let me go," Jason says quietly. "I'm doinn it."

"What's with the face? You don't like it?"

"I'm doing it, okay? Let me go!"

Jason tries to pull away. Willis backhands him. It's not that painful. Jason wishes it was. 

Willis grips his hair.

"You never worked a day in your life. I pay rent, bills, put food on the table, and when I ask you one thing, one small thing, you're giving me the lip? Huh?"

"No," Jason says through gripped teeth. "I don't."

He isn't. He wants to punch Willis. But the last time he tried, he got a blackeye, and mom saw it, and she came down on Willis with fury Jason didn't know she had the energy for. She spends her days mostly in bed, now.

Willis twisted her arm so hard, she couldn't even hold a cup the next week.

He doesn't want that again. 

He doesn't want that to see if it doesn't happen again, either.

So he says:

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? Sorry for being an ungrateful little shit? You know, sorry doesn't cut it. You've said it before, and you're still behaving like that. I don't think you're sorry at all. You resent me, do you? If I ask you to do something? Because you're so smart. Physical labor is not for the likes of you. You're going to become an accountant and forget about your family too?"

"No."

"No what?"

"No, I won't forget my family."

"See, I bet Vern's brother said that too, when his sister was breaking her back to put bread on the table. Like I do. You know, Vernon was right. She should have made him work too. I worked since I was your age, did I tell you?"

"Yes. You sold cigarettes to other kids after school."

"Yes, I did. But you're too useless for that. It's not like you have any friends at school, do you? No, you don't, because you're always keeping your nose down in some book. Thinking you're so smart and better than the rest of us. You're useless, good for nothing piece of shit, aren't you?"

Jason squeezes his fists. 

"Yeah, you are. You heard what Vernon said? Pretty boys like you are good for a fuck. Maybe that's how you can pay me back."

Jason freezes.

"Yeah, I'll put you in your mom's makeup and put you on the corner, and you won't even have to do anything, just lie on your back and think about America. You would like that, won't you? You lazy fuck."

Willis shakes him. It makes Jason unfreeze, his brain reboots, and he shoves at Willis, his hands hitting his father's stomach.

"Fuck you! I'm not lazy! I do everything around the house!"

Willis, for a second, looks dumbfounded.

"You dare to raise your hand at me?" he says slowly. "You dare? Without me, you are going to die starving, begging on the streets, and sucking dicks for 5 dollars apiece. Because you'll be that desperate, and you aren't worth much."

"I'm worth more than you, asshole!" 

He tries to run, get to a facsimile of safety of his room. There is no lock to keep Willis out, and even if there was, he's too riled up to let it stop him. But Jason just can't stand there. He wants to be anywhere but here.

Willis kicks him and it sends him to the floor. 

"So let's see your worth, you little bitch."

This time it hurts. He doesn't just cop a feel and thigh-fuck him. He puts his fingers inside him, and then wipes him off Jason. And he puts it in, as much as he can fit.

Jason growls and claws at him and tries to bulk him off but. He's not yet ten.

This time, it hurts, and Jason screams, but his mother does not come out of her bedroom.

  


Tomorrow, Jason begs her to leave Willis. Run away with him. But she wipes his tears and hugs him and says that they can't. What are they going to do? She can't do it all alone. They need Willis. 

"Just be a good son and listen to him," she begs. "Don't make him angry. I'm so tired of seeing you fight. I can't protect you. It's killing me inside. You're killing me, Jason, you understand?"

And Jason nods.

  


A week or so after... After Vernon's visit, Willis is barely seen at home. When he is there, he's sober. He doesn't talk to Jason. It almost like he avoids Jason entirely. Jason doesn't trust it. He doesn't think Willis knows what feeling guilty is like. But he doesn't look gift horse into the mouth. 

Then, a month passes. Things start to become normal, more or less.

Willis even takes Jason to a circus. 

Then, another month, and Willis pissed Two-Face somehow, maybe because he got a batarang tattoo. He's off the crew immediately, told to say thanks he's still breathing.

Nobody is willing to hire him, he's too hot for that now, if Two-Face meets him on the streets.

So they can't make rent. 

  


And that's when it happens again.

  


Mom is at the clinic. She's probably going to be out all day. Jason is not too worried, because Willis is just sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by some papers, with a pen in hand. He's busy, and that means he won't notice Jason if Jason doesn't let himself be noticed.

So Jason is holed up in his room, a headphone in one ear and the other is free to let him know if Willis is coming. He does his Math homework. 

And then Willis calls him to the kitchen.

Jason debates if he should go, or if maybe Willis would assume he doesn't hear him and just makes the coffee himself, or whatever he wants.

Willis shouts again. So Jason goes but stands in the doorway, keeping silent, hands crossed on his chest.

Willis looks up from whatever calculations he was doing and sighs.

"Don't be a pussy," he says. "Sit."

He nods at the chair on the other side of the table. Jason sits.

Willis chews his pen for maybe ten seconds before saying anything.

"You hate me, I know," he says. 

Usually, in the past, when he said something like that it was Jason's cue to tell him that no, he didn't, he loved him. It always was kind of a lie for Willis' benefit, as well as for making Jason's life as difficult as possible. It was maybe 30% truth on the worst days anyway. Up to 98% on good days. 

This time, Jason doesn't say anything at all.

"That's okay," Willis says. "I hated my father too. You think you got it bad? He beat us up, both Ma and us kids. Didn't work either. And then he just left us and didn't even pay his child support. And there were five of us, some still in their Pampers. But however much I hated him, I loved my mother. And always tried to help her out as I only could. You do love your mother, do you?"

Jason just stares at him.

"I'm sorry, alright? That wasn't right, what I did. I was drunk. You know how I am when I'm drunk. You know, if you just didn't backtalk me, nothing would have happened. You shouldn't try to mouth off when I get like this, get it?"

"Yes," Jason says. "I love my mother."

"Good. That's good. Now. I am going to talk to you like to adult, alright? Because you're a big boy now. You're not just some snotty useless brat anymore. So I will respect that, and respect you, and be frank. Okay?"

"Okay," Jason says.

"okay. So I lost my job recently, and your mom is getting worse. I don't know how we're going to be able to afford the place to live, much less her meds. She's... she's sick, Jason, and it's going to be, it already is, painful. We need to do something, Jason. We need to help her."

Jason's stomach twists.

"You want to help your mother, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Because she loves you and she would do anything for you. Anything."

"I said I want to help!"

"Good, that's good. Because you can, Jason. You're the only one who can."

  


As far as plans go, it's not that bad.

It's just a scam, and they are going to be running it on those fuckers who get a boner looking at a middle schooler. As far as Jason's concerned, they are scum on Earth, and it's god's work to liberate them from their money.

"You're going to be perfectly safe," Willis insists, hand on Jason's shoulder, squeezing. "You won't even see them. Just the photos, and then when they suggest a meeting, I'm going to be waiting for them."

"But, how are we going to find them?"

"That's the beauty of it," Willis says. "Internet just full of perverts nowadays.  _ They  _ are going to find you."

Jason even gets a new smartphone out of this. A loan, Willis explains, but they're going to pay it off in no time, thanks to Jason.

All Jason needs so far is to make an Instagram account and post pictures (not nudes, just suggestive pose here and maybe a naked torso there) to bait those pedos. Willis helps with photos, too. To be honest, when Jason takes a selfie, it looks awful. His face is ugly, and his neck looks weirdly long. 

When Willis arranges him on a bed, changing angles, distance, telling him what expression to make and how, the end result is... still weird, and uncomfortable to look at. He looks like a whore but that, Willis says, is not a bad thing. But he doesn't look ugly.

Jason refuses to hug his mother's teddy bear. He's not a girl, he says.

They take a little field trip, making enough pictures in Gotham's public parks and on the beaches to last a lifetime. Or, as the future will show, two months. It's awkward to find places to change so many times, and he's pretty beat at the end of the day, but at least he got a lot of ice-cream out of it. Willis would only let him do a lick or two before making him change props.

They return home not long before mom does. Willis suggests they take a couple of photos together. It's awkward, Willis, half-way naked, is lying on the bed. Jason has to use his chest as a pillow. It's hairy and it smells. He doesn't see what's so attractive about this photo. But when Willis looks at the screen, then back at him.

"Yeah," he says, his pupils blown wide. "It's going to work."

Jason begs off to go to the kitchen. Make dinner. Willis lets him go, and doesn't come out from the bedroom for twenty minutes. Jason's new phone is there. He isn't willing to go back though. He waits until Willis went to take a shower, and sneaks inside.

When he activates the screen, it shows the gallery. For one second, he is hit with a strong urge to just delete the photos. But he thinks Willis is going to kill him for real then. They spent so much effort and money on them.

When mom gets home, Willis is in a great mood. She isn't. Jason sees her forcing herself to smile and ask how her boys have been, and answers, good. Willis is more forthcoming. They had a blast, he says. Spent time outside. Real father-son bonding time. Good, she says. Doesn't ask for details.

It's not that she doesn't care, it's that she is in constant pain. And for all that there is a free clinic in the Burrows now, medication doesn't grow on trees. Pain relief costs money. But, Jason reminds himself, soon, they will have the money. Just you wait, mom, dad's plan is going to work.

  


It's not really a surprise that it does not.

Jason's pictures are posted on a schedule. He tries different hashtags, different times, nothing seems to work. He has maybe twenty followers all told, most of them are kids from his school who follow everyone for follow-backs. His posts get maybe eight to ten likes. Nobody weird comments on them or contacts him via IM.

Predictably, Willis is losing his shit.

"What do you do on the phone all day? Playing games? Reading, again?"

"You told me I won't have to do anything!"

"This is not a game, Jason! I took a loan, from very serious people. If we don't get them their money back, money, I remind you, that are used to keep the roof over your head! And clothes, how much new clothes I bought for you? The phone itself, it's the latest model!"

"If you're so worried about money, maybe you should buy less boose."

Willis shows him, and Jason falls down on the bed. 

Willis plants one knee on the bed and pushes Jason down even deeper. 

"When you start making even a cent, then you can talk. Got it?"

  


That same evening, after making a few calls in the bathroom, so neither Jason nor his mom could hear what it was about, he takes Jason to meet his grandmother.

Jason heard about her a lot from Willis. But for some reason, he has never seen her before. In his mind, it's an old, strict, proper lady. He's right somewhat, because his grandmother looks like a matron straight from Daddy-Long-Legs pages. Grey hair in a tight bun. Old-fashioned high-collar dress. Rim-road straight spine. She's even the director of a group home, for fuck's sake.

That's where the similarities run out, however. 

"You can call me Ma, child," she says, puffing the smoke out.

It's not tobacco, either. He knows because she offered him the cigarette holder.

"Here, amuse yourself while I talk with your dumbass of a father."

Willis is glaring at him, warning not to, but Jason, encouraged by her words, ignores it.

Drugs are dumb, he thinks, trying to make a circle out of the smoke he breaths out. They aren't even doing anything. Distantly, he is aware of the adults talking. Ma is ridiculing Willis. At some point, she even hits him at the back of his head. Willis is probably going to take it out on Jason when they're alone. It doesn't bother Jason. 

"You might as well contacted the FBI yourself, honestly. What are you thinking?"

“You think that’s my main problem? I mean. M’am.”

“I know what your problem is. You never plan things! Did you do your research? I don’t mean  _ googling kiddie porn _ . Anything that can be just found on the web is a bait. You need a secure third party platform that doesn’t give a shot what do you do as long as you are paying commission fees. Any photo or video exchanges should be made through a secure messenger, and let me tell you, this is not  _ it _ . But most importantly, do you know how long it is going to take getting established and pulling the numbers you need for this to be worth the trouble?”

“No. How?”

“I don’t know either! Unless you are going to reach out to people who openly talk about their preferences. And that’s a dead end because they have to be either brain dead losers, or with more clout than god. Referrals work, look into that.”

“Can you, uh, refer me to some of your clients?”

“I don’t deal with the distribution. I am a producer. Now, if you wanted to make Jason work for me...”

“ _ No _ . I mean, thanks, but. It’s a bit too far. He is not going to meet any of them. Taking pictures, sending a text, there’s no harm in that.”

“Good. Because if you answered otherwise... He’s my youngest grandson, after all. You remember how your father had to urgently move to Metropolis?”

Jason laughs. Both adults swing their heads in his direction. They look alike now. Gleaming eyes and sharp noses.

“Nobody ever moves to Metropolis after living in Gotham,” he explains. “They only say they are going to. And then they stay forever.”

His mom planned to, she told him. But then she  _ had him _ .

“Exactly,” Ma says.

“That’s not going to happen,” Willis says quickly. “I won’t... I’m not going to, uh,  _ move anywhere _ . But... Can you help me out, just this once? I wouldn’t ask, it’s just that I took a loan...”

Ma groans.

“For Pete’s sake. Who would even give you the money?  _ I _ ’m only talking to you because you are my flesh and blood.”

“It was, I’m, it’s Mister Cobblepot.”

“Are you  _ jesting  _ me? Penguin?”

“Not himself, just. One of his bookies. I was a good customer for a couple of years, so. We have a good working relationship. He isn’t asking for the money back...”

“But he’s  _ going  _ to. Alright. This once. I will give you a name. This guy handles the distribution for me. You can say I sent you. Maybe offer him the same pictures you’re going to send to clients. He will be able to give you some tips, a few names you can approach. But I don’t know if he would be willing. That’s on you. Don’t fuck it up! I need this guy still, so I won’t have to talk to  _ his  _ clients. And remember. Don’t go for the scum that buys kids off the street, they are either psychos or don’t have money. Don’t go for too rich, they know it’s cheaper to kill someone than be blackmailed. Or they aren’t afraid at all. Stick to the middle and you will be golden. And most importantly, don’t take little Jason here to see that man.”

Willis thanks for the advice. Ma bills him the consultation fee.

Jason thanks her for weed. Ma looks at him long enough for Jason to get distracted by the sudden hunger pangs.

“If you need anything,” she says. And doesn’t continue.

Jason still nods, but he thinks he can’t afford her hours."

  


They don’t go home. It’s funny, how father was so scared of his own mother, and still breaks his word as soon as they’re out on the street. It’s funny, because if it was Jason, he would have gotten smacked around for lying and not listening and who knows what else. And the one doling out the punishment would have been Willis. Ironic, that’s what it is, not funny.

Funny is calling his grandmother Ma. What kind of name is Ma?

“Can I really call her Ma?” he asks Willis.

“Call her... Actually, don't call her anything at all. You're not going to be talking about her, got it?"

"Can you buy me Cheetos?"

Willis does if it's just to shut him up. Jason opens the bag and realizes just how ravenous he is. He tries to make it lasts, but can’t seem to keep his hand out of the bag.

That's how Ma's guy meets them. He nods at Willis, vary, not that Jason blames him. The man is barely higher than Jason. Ha,  _ higher _ . That’s not ironic, though, that’s a pun. Point is, Willis is intimidating. Jason still sometimes freezes when his father appears in the corner of his vision unexpectedly. And he knows the guy for twelve years.

When he sees Jason, he starts to look much more at ease. He even smiles and shakes  _ Jason _ 's hand. Not Willis'. His hands get sticky from artificial cheese dust too. He licks it off.

At this point, Jason is too sleepy to follow what they are talking about. He curls on the couch, trying to keep his eyes open, at least. He really tries. But when he blinks, and he sees Willis' face over him. Jaw tight, looks like he is going to hit someone. Jason is on his feet in an instance, because Willis is looking at him and it follows that he's going to be the one who is hit. His fists clench, to keep from going defensive. It makes you look weak, looking weak is what gets you attacked. He needs to be a man, Willis always says.

Jason doesn't think looking tough ever got Willis anywhere in life. But if there's a chance Willis would restrain himself, them being kind of in public, with another witness in a room, at least... No point in antagonizing him further.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Fine. Let's go."

When Jason gets up from the couch, he sees the guy nowhere in sight. Willis takes his shoulder and all but drags him to the exit. When they almost to the door, the guy shows up again, with tissues stuffed in his nostrils.

"Don't show up again!" he shouts at them.

Yeah, everything is fine as a summer day.

Jason waits until they at least two blocks away to demand:

"Did you at least got the names off him?"

Willis stops immediately, and Jason almost expects the blow to the head he gets.

"You're questioning me, now, boy? You're the brains of the operation, huh? What did you fell asleep for then? Why didn't you negotiated with this creep, if you think it's that easy? I know why, you didn't work for a day in your life, but you always expect things to just happen. Just appear! Daddy, I need new sneakers, daddy, I want to go to a baseball game, daddy, where's no food in the fridge, daddy, did you get the names? If you only knew what he asked me in return. I protected you, all right? It's all I ever do."

He shakes Jason. It's his cue to answer, and any answer that is not "yes, dad, sorry, dad" is not going to be acceptable. Jason keeps his mouth shut.

Willis doesn't prod him further for an answer, just lets go of his arm and long-strides forward. Jason has to speed-up to catch up.

When they get home, Willis tells him to go to his room, now. Jason is too tired to argue, and neither does he want to. Honestly, his bed sounds as a great place to be.

He's so tired that he falls asleep by the sounds of Willis checking up on Catherine, his soft murmur to her completely unheard answers.

  


He forgets to press a chair or something to his door. So he doesn't hear when Willis comes in, but startles awake when he slips into his bed.

Jason is never drinking, he tells himself. The smell of it is turning his stomach.

"I'm sorry I hit you," Willis says, brushing Jason's curls away from his forehead. "I just got so angry at Trench. You fell asleep, you didn't hear the wile things he sprouted about you. He wanted me to... He wanted to... He wanted  _ you _ , baby. So I hit him. And now he won't help us. I'm sorry."

Jason feels the dread creeping up his arms.

"It's okay, dad," he says. "You told him no, right? You kept me safe, just like you promised."

Willis plops his head on Jason's chest.

"Yeah," he says softly. "For now. But what you and your mom are going to do when I'm gone?"

"You're not going anywhere."

Jason pats him on the back.

"I do, Jay, I will. They will kill me, and then they still will come to your mom for the money. She can't work, you know that. What they will do to her..."

Jason's T-shirt is quickly becoming damp.

"They won't," Jason murmurs, trying to awkwardly pet Willis' hair, like mom does to him when he's upset. "We will get the money. We can beat the names out of Trench, right? He's barely higher than me, we can take him. I will help."

"It's not going to work without an introduction. And he won't help if we beat him up some more. He is going to want even more. Not just to - to stare at you, and get himself off. But you, your mouth... Damn you and your pretty mouth, kid."

Jason freezes completely, before taking his hands off Willis.

Willis gets up, just a little, so his face is above Jason's.

"Dad?"

"They will kill me, Jason. If you don't save us all, they will kill me, and you, and your mom, and God knows what they will make you do before that. What they will do to your mom."

It's not going to happen.

"I won't let them," Jason promises. "If they come for mom, I will go to the cops, I will go to Batman, anything."

"They will kill you for snitching, then, just after cops arrest you and put you in the same jail where all their guys are kept in."

“Nobody is going to know.”

“They will, kid. They always do. But you can help, baby," Willis swallows audibly, and Jason tries to scramble back, under the covers, to hide his goosebumps that cover his whole body. Willis radiates heat, but it does not warm, just about the opposite. "You can prevent all of this.”

Willis touches his mouth with his lips. At first, Jason thinks it's not happening. Not again. He said he was sorry! He probably wanted to kiss his cheek and missed. But he never kisses Jason, and he complains when his mom does. Says Jason's too old for that, now.

And then Willis slips his hands lower, to Jason's hips, dragging him closer, pushing him flat to the bed.

“Dad, no!”

Jason shoves his hands at Willis’ chest. The only thing it does is make Willis capture his hands and grip both of his wrists, pressing it to the bed covers above Jason’s head with just one hand. The second is shoving Jason’s sweatpants down.

“I will help you, kid,” Willis whispers. “It’s scary, when you don’t know what to do. But you don’t worry. I will help.”

He moves his hand. He is still looking into Jason’s eyes, and still murmuring to calm down, to relax, to follow his lead. Jason... is not sure what else he is saying. The words, and the heavy uneven breathing, and the skin touching skin, the creak of the bed, it’s all kind of bleeds together.

Jason is staring at the ceiling. He spent awake long enough now to see the net of the breaks in the plaster. It looks kind of like a spiral. It looks like a beginning without a start and the end that you are never going to reach. It had been there as long as Jason remembers. It had gotten worse over the years. It will get even worse if they don’t buy putty to fill the cracks in.

  


Willis left, some time ago, Jason realizes suddenly. It’s dawn. He looks himself over. There’s bruising on his hands and hips. There's’ some blood on the sheets but not too much. He should go wash up before anyone wakes up. He should leave for school before...

He turns to his side, grimacing. He cocoons himself under the covers so not even his head is uncovered. It smells awful, and it is hard to breathe. He falls asleep almost immediately, despite being certain that he won’t be able to and yet, wanting it more than he wanted anything else in his life.

Even to fix the ceiling. Even his mom being healthy. Even Willis, dead.

It’s not that he wants to kill his father. Mom would be devastated. She says she loves the bastard. Not when the fight with him leaves her hysterical. But, after. He does all those things, see: puts food on the table, makes sure Jason has everything he needs to go to school. So Jason doesn’t drop out and join a gang, like a lot of kids with deadbeat or just dead dads in their neighborhood do. And she can’t give that to Jason herself. She’s sick, and Willis takes care of that, too.

Yeah. Okay.

Sometimes Willis is not even that bad. It’s always worse when he drinks, but as long as he doesn’t, it’s usually fine.

Up until today, when it’s not.

Willis abruptly pulls the covers off. Jason jumps upright and almost hits him. Willis laughs.

"Get up, lazy bones!"

Willis sounds cheerful. But, like, mom-cheerful. His pupils are blown too.

"The fuck are you doing! Leave me alone!"

It's daylight, though the sun has that red tilt to it that promises dusk in an hour or so. He hears mom singing. It grates on his sleep-deprived brain. He tries to fight Willis for the covers, but Willis doesn't smack his hands away, doesn't push him to the floor, doesn't even punch him for cursing and being disrespectful. He just picks Jason up and over his shoulder, and takes him to the bathroom and dunks him under the shower.

Jason screams, the water takes time to warm up when you first turn it on. Willis doesn't seem to hear it even: he picks up a washing towel and rubs Jason's skin.

Mom appears in the doorway.

"Everything good with my boys?" She asks, smiling.

Jason sputters and shouts that no, nothing is okay, get him away from him, please. But Willis winks at her.

"He decided to play hooky today, that I can understand. School just a waste of time anyway, for someone as smart as him. But I am drawing the line at staying in the bed all day and stinking the whole apartment up, little punk!"

He turns to Jason and just laughs when he sees Jason glaring at him.

Jason takes the washing cloth away from him and begins scrubbing his body himself, trying to angle his body so the bits he doesn't want his mom to see - and doesn't want Willis  _ looking _ \- are covered, but that's kind of impossible.

"Let's leave him to it," Willis says to mom. "You're making dinner, right? I'm  _ hungry _ ."

"Oh,  _ are  _ you," she smirks.

He picks her up, just like he did Jason, and she lets out an excited shout. They don't bother with the door to the bathroom, and it seems like they only halfway closed the one to their bedroom.

Jason turns the faucet as far as it can go, and for a few short moments, he thinks he's going to die, when he's slipping on the tile, reaching for the door and locking it. But he doesn't fall. His eye catches Willis' straight razor. The water is warmer, now, and in the next few minutes, it's going to become scalding. Unfortunately, there's no bathtub.

He steps under the water and closes his eyes and doesn't come out until mom knocks.

Apparently, she’s leaving to go see some friends of hers. Jason asks if he can come, too, and she thinks it’s cute if the way she ruffles his hair is any indication.

“Your father needs you for something,” she says. 

She leaves while he is still standing in the hall. He doesn’t, can’t, move.

Willis finds him.

“I’m not. I’m not going to do it with Trench,” Jason says. “What you did with me yesterday. I’m not doing it with  _ anyone _ .”

He has his fists up and ready for Willis to swing at him. Willis bumps his fist over one of Jason’s.

“Good,” he says. “That’s too fucking much for a few names, won’t you agree?”

It shocks Jason that Willis doesn’t - get angry, or deny that something happened last night at all. It also drives him mad, because why he did that thing for?

“No, we don’t need Trench,” Willis says. “We don’t need anyone. I figured it all out. Because I am smart and always look out for you, baby.”

There’s a doorbell. 

It’s not mom forgetting her keys. It’s one of the guys she is buying drugs from. For a hot minute here, when Willis gives him a beer and asks Jason to sit down with them, listen to them talking business, and hey, maybe have a beer himself, he’s old enough if it’s happening under his dad’s roof… For all that time Jason is hoping that it’s all this is. Willis getting into dealing drugs, again. Finally found someone not afraid to work with him.

Turns out, he was just properly stimulated.

“So,” the guy says when all shop talk is done. “Where are we doing this?”

And Willis takes them to Jason’s room.

Jason is nauseous. He should be doing something. Fighting, trying to run away, open his mouth and tell them to go fuck themselves. But Willis keeps his hand on the nape of his neck, his fingers could easily reach around. Jason doesn't do anything.

"You're staying?" The guy leers at Willis, opening his pants.

Willis just shrugs.

"This is my son," he says. I have to make sure you won't be too rough or anything."

Guy snorts and sits down on the bed, his dick kinda just, hanging there. Like he expects Jason to know what the fuck is going on or to want to have anything to do with him.

Willis is the one who pushes Jason to his knees.

"Lick it," he says, tightening his grip on Jason.

Jason clenches his teeth.

"Come on," the guy complaints to Willis, "I don't have all night."

Willis changes his grip from the neck to his hair and shoves Jason at the dick. The guy shoves the dick at Jason. Things happen.

He doesn't remember it very much. Doesn't matter, it happens again the next week, and the next, and there are other people too. Some of the new faces, some he recognizes: cops patrolling their neighborhood. A man who was Willis’ lieutenant while he was still with Two-Face. And his father still comes at night, but he doesn't smell like alcohol anymore. He doesn't say sorry or tries to make Jason believe that everything is going to be alright. He smacks Jason around if he doesn't pay attention, because he's teaching him, goddammit, should he do everything around here?

And mom, mom is always asleep, or out. They run on a pretty synchronized schedule nowadays, Jason's parents.

At least, she seems better. Happy. Jason should be happy for her too. But the first time he truly feels happy is when Willis is suddenly arrested.

But then mom goes to visit him in jail. And when she comes back, she tells Jason not to worry. Willis is going to be let out even before the trial. It’s going to take a few months, but they have to just power through. 

“As long as we together,” she whispers, hugging him. They’re both crying. “We can make it until your dad is with us again, we can.”

When she goes to sleep, Jason puts together a bag with clothes, some non-perishables that by some miracle he finds in the kitchen, money some men left as tips when Willis wasn’t looking. His hand is on the doorknob.

  


He can’t leave.

You don’t leave a dog in the car with windows rolled up, do you? It happened to Sparky. See, Jason owned a dog long ago. Willis got it for him, Jason was five. No, four. His mom just lost a baby. It’s a couple of years before Jason finds out how babies are made. Word “pregnancy” isn’t in his vocabulary. He doesn’t know he lost a sibling. Still, he cries at night, he insists on staying up late because he doesn’t want to sleep. Nightmares get him.

That’s what the dog is for. It distracts mom, and it sleeps in Jason’s bed, even if Willis shouts at him every time he sees that. Yeah, it helps. Till one day, Willis takes it with him when he goes… Jason doesn’t know where, he started school that fall so that’s where he was, he thinks. Willis takes it with him, and leaves it in the car, and when he comes back…

It was five, six years ago? That’s half his life. It doesn’t pain Jason as much anymore, thinking about Sparky. He stopped wanting to kill Willis for killing Sparky. Or at least, he stopped envisioning that. Because he ends up just doing it.

Let’s face it. That’s what Jason is doing. He goes to meet Two-Face’s lieutenant, the one who was a frequent customer. He sucks him off, and he gets fifty bucks and an opportunity to ask if he could ask his boss to help with a lawyer, or bribing someone, to get Willis out of jail.

“Why would I do that?” Joe asks, putting himself away and zipping the pants up. “You’re not  _ that  _ good. After knowing how many men used that mouth, the shine wears off.”

Jason stays there he is. He keeps his opinion to himself, about Joe finishing under two minutes, not pointing out that at all. There’s being cocky, and there’s being suicidal, which he technically  _ is  _ but can’t afford to be.

“You don’t understand,” he sounds urgent, and not like he wants to throw up at all. “I went to see him yesterday! It’s awful, he won’t last long in the place like that.”

“It’s not even a prison yet, kid,” Joe said, looking down at him. His thumb was moving back and forth under Jason’s chin, his fingers resting on the side of his face. “Everyone has been to jail, it’s not going to kill him. Find him a good lawyer, make friendly with a judge, or even his arresting officer… evidence goes missing all the time.”

Jason briefly caught his thumb in his lying mouth, bit down on it just a little, to see Joe’s pupil get blown again. It made him more susceptible to Jason’s story.

“There’s  _ no  _ evidence, it’s a setup, everyone knows that. Penguin needed someone to take the fall for one of his schemes, and Willis pissed him off because he owed him money. And the precinct needed to get their solve rate up. They wrote his verdict already! If you don’t help me get my father out of jail, he will take a  _ deal _ !”

“Yeah?”

His thumb now is rubbing Jason’s lips.

“Please,” Jason closes his eyes. “I will do  _ anything _ . Your boss has that kind of pull, doesn’t he? He can make him go free. I can… Can meet him, too. I won’t freak out, promise. The scars add character, anyway.”

Joe laughs.

“Don’t let him hear that, or he will add the character to  _ you _ .”

He musses up Jason’s hair, but when he takes his hand away, his smile disappears.

“I will see what we can do.”

Jason knows he will.

“Thank you,” he says, almost sincerely.

Gets up, dusts off his knees. Rubs his face with the sleeve while Joe walks away.

It’s going to be the last time he sees Joe. That’s just a bonus to never hearing about Willis again, except for the phone call mom gets.

She cries, hugs Jason to her.

“How are we going to survive?” she whispers. “I can’t do it on my own, baby. We need him. I’m sorry.”

Jason rubs her on the back. Her shiver doesn’t let off. She starts to get clammy.

“I will take care of it,” he promises. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is not as explicit as the original prompt suggested but I hope that the feeling of things being cruel, awful and hopeless was captured and it still is something the OP would appreciate.  
> If it is not, I am sorry and I hope someone discovers this prompt and write a better suited version.


End file.
